


Espouse

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Harry and Death get married, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Not set in a particular episode or time, Sam and Dean are nosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Unbetaed.





	Espouse

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.

They were in the middle of nowhere, Nevada, tracking the movement of spontaneous and strange weather reports - rainstorms and snowstorms in the middle of the desert, starting without warning and ending just as suddenly. And on top of all the freaky weather, Sam had researched and found an alarming number of death omens popping up that correlated with it, which meant there was more than something fishy going on. Something that was practically advertising itself to them.  
  
So, of course, the both of them had packed themselves into the Impala and taken off into the sunset, and were now traversing the long, empty roads running across the equally empty deserts that the state was known for (apart from Vegas) in an attempt to follow the trail.  
  
They'd been to each of the six locations with the signs, and at the last Dean had marked the places onto a map in hopes that it'd point the way to the next to reveal alarming results. To an untrained eye, they may just have formed a circle, but Sam and Dean both agreed it was more likely a pentagram - and that the area they were interested in was most likely right in the middle.  
  
It was telling too. There had been a town there once, a long time ago, but it was now standing absolutely empty, all the inhabitants having either died in crazy weird circumstances or left to escape the traumatic memories. The whole thing would ordinarily reek of demon activity, and Dean insisted it probably was, except that Sam felt something was off about the whole thing. None of it was quite _right_  - the details were off, like something close but not quite the same as demons, and it bothered him endlessly. But after the first few times he'd tried to talk to Dean, only to be rebuffed, he kept his mouth shut.  
  
They arrived at the empty town as evening fell, and were greeted with the very definition of a ghost town. Doors still hung open, roads empty and dust-covered, and Sam shivered as a heavy feeling descended over them. The whole town had the same atmosphere as an abandoned, haunted house, but so much heavier. So potent he could almost _taste_  the death on his tongue.  
  
"This whole place is abandoned," he whispered, almost to himself, but Dean heard and snorted next to him.  
  
"Yeah, exactly. Perfect place to hide."  
  
"Okay, so where do we go from here?" The taller man asked, turning to look at his brother.  
  
Dean shrugged, not looking away from the road. "You tell me."  
  
"Well," Sam looked out of the widow, trying to look past the buildings. "Reports show the creepy weather is mostly around the centre of town. And," he added as they turned a corner, "it seems there's a church smack bang in the middle of it all."  
  
"A _church_?" Dean sounded incredulous, but Sam couldn't fault him for his shock. "Really?  
  
The brunette nodded. "Yeah, and look," he said, gesturing before them as they turned a corner at leisure. "That's it right there."  
  
They'd made their way into the centre of the small town, where an old church stood tall and dark. The oddest thing about it wasn't even the cold chill emanating from the place, or the strange shadows that made the place seem darker.  
  
No, the oddest thing was the ridiculous amount of tiny, dark shapes that stood along the rooftops in more or less complete silence. When Dean had parked the car, Sam got out and took a step closer, squinting up to see if he could recognise the shapes as the evening grew darker. Just as Dean got out and walked closer, he stiffened.  
  
"Dean," he whispered. "Dean, those are _crows_."  
  
Dean frowned heavily, his hand automatically reaching for the gun in his belt as if by habit. "Must be something incredibly powerful in there, Sammy."  
  
"Yeah," the man nodded, pulling his attention away from the rooftops and into his brother. "But also, whatever's in there isn't _hurting_  anyone, Dean."  
  
"What’s that supposed to mean?" Dean's voice went a little sharp, but Sam ignored the tone and carried on.  
  
"I mean, what are we risking our lives for here? Nobody lives here. Nobody's in danger except us."  
  
Dean shook his head. "For now, Sam. These things always escalate. Besides," he added, turning to stare his brother in the eye, "what if this was what drove all these people away? Killed half of them in freaky accidents and scared the rest away?"  
  
"I-" Sam started, but Dean interrupted.  
  
"With everything going on right now, I wouldn't be surprised if those things in there were getting ready to move into another town and terrorise a whole new bunch of people. And I'd rather not give them that chance."  
  
With these words, the older man moved purposefully forward towards the entrance of the church. Sam followed him, but Dean had pushed open the doors before he could reach him, and was frozen in place.  
  
"What?" Sam asked just as he came to stand next to his brother, but Dean didn't reply, and when Sam looked he understood why.  
  
They were looking at a wedding.  
  
The bride - though she was not wearing a dress, but a set of robes, had just made her way up to the altar, and was turning to stand face to face with her groom. The reason neither of them had turned away, however, was not the fact that they'd interrupted a marriage ceremony, but that there were things decidedly _wrong_  about it.  
  
Apart from the fact that the event was occurring in an abandoned town, the people seemed completely unaware of Sam and Dean's interruption. Upon closer inspection, Sam realised they didn't look very human at all.  
  
The guests all seemed to be dying. Not in the way the sat, for they sat with backs straight and mouths smiling, but as Sam moved around the hall nearer the front, he realised they were... decomposing?  
  
Some showed ribs, others their skulls or their phalanges. A girl at the very front sat dressed in a beautiful, pale violet dress - her lips a rosy red, and her eye sockets an empty black, and despite this she faced the front as if she could actually _see_.  
  
The heavy music stopped then, the last few notes lingering in the air like the heavy scent of electricity when a storm was due. Sam turned to see the pianist, a complete skeleton dressed in the colours of a dragonfly, a bluebird falling silent just as the notes died from inside the cage of his ribs. It had been singing along to the music, sitting just where the pianists heart ought to have been, had he been a living, breathing human.  
  
The attention was now on the main couple, and now that Sam looked for longer than a passing glance he could tell that the woman was, in fact, a man. A veil covered the face, but the broader shoulders and flat chest pointed towards a distinctly male physique despite the slightly feminine waist and hips, or the long wave of pitch black hair that fell down the man's back.  
  
The figure was dressed in all white, except for the black cobwebs that decorated his robes and covered his face in a delicate veil. His hands were gloved, and he raised them expectantly for the other man to take them.  
  
The groom in question was dressed in an elegant black suit, his face narrow and sharp and his eyes black as the void. He seemed proud from the way he held himself, and radiated a cold sort of power that felt absolutely repulsive to Sam. This did not seem to affect the man in white or indeed any of the guests present, but then again Sam supposed they weren't exactly ordinary.  
  
His eyes slid to Dean, who stood at the opposite end of the hall. His eyes were fixed on the veiled groom, who stood facing away from Sam. He waved slightly, but his older brother seemed lost in thought as he stared at the figure facing him. Sam made to move forward, worry growing in his chest, but was stopped by a man - a priest, by the way he was dressed - stepping forward.  
  
"Dearly beloved," he intoned, his voice as deep and striking as the blood red roses that bloomed along his dark skin. "Today, we gather here to see two halves of a soul unite eternally."  
  
Sam frowned at his words. They didn't really sound like the usual words in a wedding, in fact they seemed quite wrong. But even as he stood and watched, Sam felt increasingly like he didn't belong. He wanted to leave, but his brother seemed frozen, mesmerized by the man in white.  
  
The priest was opening up a book in front of him now, and just as he made to set it down a stand made of thorns grew straight up and out of the altar to greet him. He carried on as if it was completely normal and expected, and reached to his shoulder to gently coax a rose to loosen.  
  
It retracted as if it were a living animal, tentatively sliding into his hand and curling its stalk in towards itself as the priest carried it over to the hands joined between the couple to be married. He set it down there, and immediately the rose's thorned stalk reached to wrap around, drawing blood from both where it dug into white silk and soft skin.  
  
Sam winced sympathetically, but the two seemed absolutely unfazed as they looked into each other's eyes lovingly. And though he could only see the taller man's face, Sam would bet that they both had the exact same looks of utter devotion on their faces.  
  
The priest stepped back and regarded the book he'd set down before him. He opened his mouth, and out came a long string of what sounded much like Latin, though it was far too fast for Sam to even hope to translate. He tried to keep up, but instead was distracted by the soft glow that came from the couple, and the way the dripping blood stretched across the floor, spreading in complicated patterns that were completely foreign to Sam, but that he recognised as some sort of seal or ritualistic component.  
  
It felt like the whole hall was holding its breath as the priest chanted, his voice becoming louder and more powerful until Sam was covering his ears in pain, his eyes watering as he wondered how the glass of the painted windows hadn't shattered yet from the sheer force of it, and he felt like he was going to black out.  
  
Just as he reached the point where he felt like his head would literally pop, the priest fell silent. There was a long pause, and when Sam finally found it in himself he found that the three at the altar were just standing there, eyes closed. There were odd lights around them, and once Sam had blinked the blurriness out of his eyes he realised it was coming from the ground the couple stood on. The strange symbols that had painted the ground were now glowing with an eerie green light, but before long it burnt out and took the blood with it.  
  
The priest then stepped up, a strangely toothy smile on his face. The couple didn't seem to notice as they stood, hands entwined with each other's and soft, devoted looks on their faces as they gazed at each other in open affection. Sam flushed, feeling like he was intruding on something incredibly intimate, but as soon as the thought passed his mind the priest laid a hand where the rose still rested, pinching into skin and drawing bright red droplets still.  
  
It almost pulsed with life - almost as if it was draining the energy from its hosts, but neither of the two men seemed to be suffering any adverse affects as the priest finally coaxed it free again and rested it back on his shoulder as if it were a pet bird.  
  
"You may kiss your bonded, my Lord," he spoke finally, and the man in the suit slowly raised the veil to reveal pale skin, deep red lips, and bright green eyes. The man then leaned down and kissed his newly married spouse as if the man was the very air he breathed.  
  
This time, Sam couldn't help but look away awkwardly. Instead, his eyes landed on his brother, who still stared as if he was hopelessly bewitched, and did not respond when Sam once again waved at him. An uneasy thrill went through him like electricity, and Sam decided to fuck it.  
  
Quickly and quietly as he could, he marched right across the room. Surprisingly, nobody reacted - it was almost as if they couldn't even see him. He decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and upon reaching his brother laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Dean," he hissed, shaking the older man a little when he did not reply. "Dean!"  
  
He shook harder, growing more and more panicked and unhappy as his brother just carried on staring like he'd completely lost his kind. Finally, absolutely pissed, he slapped the man straight across the face. It seemed to do the trick as Dean blinked heavily, turning his eyes to face him like it was a great effort.  
  
"Wha?" he mumbled, almost as if he'd been asleep. Sam didn't reply, instead grabbing his arm and dragging him out without another word. This whole hunt had been a bad idea, and now that they _were_  here, Sam could only see that there was nothing recognisable going on here. He could not begin to guess at what those people had been _or_  how to kill them, and to be perfectly honest he didn't particularly want to try.  
  
As he marched out, his brother in tow, he could not help glance back at the altar. To his surprise, he found that both of the newly married men were looking at him, an amused smile on the shorter one's face as he watched them leave. For a second, Sam felt what he was sure his brother must have felt - the urge to touch, to stare forevermore, for the man was absolutely and unearthly lovely, but then he saw the firm arm around the slim, shapely waist, and met dark eyes almost as if in reflex.  
  
And these eyes were nothing like the shorter man's. No, they were pitch black and cold, like the very void of nonexistence, like everything that repulsed and frightened Sam, and the hunter was sure that the emotionless stare would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life  
  
He turned and left, and did not look back again.


End file.
